top of page


Updated: Nov 10, 2022

While I weed and potter

a jovial thrush keeps up a prolonged dissertation

on a conversational note, with inflexion

reminiscent of a day in France

when a local woman of relatable age

in the queue at the gare, engaged

me in earnest discourse

while I ouied and nodded

and ouied and smiled as you do

and ouied and mirrored her mood

and ouied over a rising urge to burst

into laughter, until her tone

and repetition conveyed

that a reply was expected;

so I confessed in my own tongue

that I was another ignorant foreigner,

tested my je ne comprends pas,

and detached myself as she turned away

in what may have been disgust or pity

or embarrassment.

My thrush makes no demands,

content to have an audience

or so I presume.

3 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Doing the joint over

It was down to bone on bone they said, but he shouldered on as each year ground on the year before until much to do was hard to reach so he succumbed to the surgeon’s cut, the incisive smile of an ope

I met a stone

On my morning foreshore walk I met a stone, grey and worn like me but a curious shape and comfortable in my palm. Each hand wanted a turn to hold as he warmed to my company, breaking the solitude, fol

Also ran

I follow the news but do not set the pace teach what I was taught without invention and hook my carriage to a steady train the Thursday in a busy week one well aware of precedent and protocol the univ


bottom of page